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Dear Husband: An Anniversary Wish List

Dearest Husband,

Our 9th anniversary is coming up next month. To make things easier on you, I'm writing this letter so that you'll know exactly what to do to sweep me off my feet ... or at least make it easier to get me in the sack.

I know, I know. It used to be so simple. Before kids, all it took to seduce me was a well-placed caress or two (or hell, let's face it, a sideways glance). That was before I was perpetually exhausted, covered in food/snot/spit, and elbow-deep in other people's excrement countless times a day. These days, it takes a little extra "push" to get me started. But don't worry - it isn't like I'm asking for a diamond ring (I'd just take it off while doing some messy chore and then leave it somewhere, anyway), or a pricey meal at a restaurant that doesn't have kids' menus (do those exist?), or a romantic tropical getaway (although ... don't count that one out. Seriously).

No, my tastes have changed over the last nine years. Wine and roses and candlelight are nice, but what really turns me on now are much more practical things. I'll lay out a few examples ... things you can do that will score major points in the romance department:

-Scoop out the litter box. We have a three-year-old who still needs help getting completely clean when he wipes, a one-year-old who poops out more than he takes in - and, a few months from now, will be adding a newborn's neverending eat-sleep-dump cycle to the mix. I deal with too much poo as it is ... so take two minutes to sift the cat turds out of the litter. Please.

-And speaking of poop, occupy the kids while I "drop deuce" in peace and quiet. I can't tell you how long it's been since my #2's have gone unobserved by one or more pairs of little eyes. I'm tired of guarding the toilet paper so it won't get unrolled, holding the cabinet doors and drawers closed with my foot, and answering questions about why my genitalia and/or poop looks "different." I just want to sit and do my bidness by myself. I never thought that, of all things, would be a luxury ... but it is.

-Get out the vacuum cleaner, unprompted, and sweep the floors. This includes the kitchen and bathrooms - yes, you can vacuum floors that aren't carpeted. (I know you've never done it, but you've got to trust me on that one.) Bonus: learn to use the attachments. You can even dust with them ... hint hint!

-Give me the blessed gift of some uninterrupted time to read something that doesn't involve talking animals, shapes and colors, or the numbers one through twenty.

-Throw on a load or two - or three! - of laundry. You and the boys burn through clean clothes like you're eating them, and I'm always overrun with seemingly endless piles of dirty stuff. It's like a magic replenishing hamper ... if by "magic" I meant irritating. And by the way: doing laundry doesn't mean washing the clothes and then leaving them in the dryer/laundry basket to cool and wrinkle until *I* fold them and put them away. It means doing it all, from washing to hanging in the closet.

Why am I even being so specific? Mop, clean the toilet, scrub the bathtub, make dinner, pick the toys up, do the dishes, whatever. I'm so easy to please - really! Just think of something I usually have to do, and then do it. (Or better yet, pick a few things!) Anything you can take off my to-do list - anything at all - is great with me. And if you do this while telling me (sincerely!) that you still think I'm beautiful, fighting the frump and all, after almost a decade ... I'll be putty in your hands.

I hope this assists you in your annual anniversary gift-giving endeavors.